


Never Even Got to Write My Own Suicide Note

by Kyozumiibeans



Category: Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, negativity, over thinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 17:03:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12215103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyozumiibeans/pseuds/Kyozumiibeans
Summary: Maybe Heather, Ram, And Kurt's 'suicide' wasn't completely made up. What if there was some truth to it?





	Never Even Got to Write My Own Suicide Note

Heather's Sunday night routine always consisted of pampering herself. It was a night full of creams and lotions, hair product and skin care. It made Heather feel alive, in a way. First, she would mix together a homemade concoction of oils and scents to create a hair mask. Then she would create a face mask to help her glow. 

After all, I need it. No one will love me without it.

Once Heather did all of that, she could start a warm bath. The hot water and bubble would wash away the pain and the insecurity. The dirt, grime, and negativity would be flushed down the drain. Not to mention, it was the time to wash and condition her golden hair. Rinsing the suds out, Heather closed her eyes and let the water take over her. It was relaxing.

The loneliest time was afterwards. When all the petty beauty treatment was finished. All that was left was to lay in bed and think. That was the most painful time of night. When there were no distractions.  
You could only wash your hair for so long. 

But, if she didn't constantly fawn over her appearance, Heather would be alone. The only reason anyone even spoke to her was because of her beauty. If it wasn't for her looks, Heather would be alone again. She wasn't nice. She wasn't smart. She couldn't get along with many people. To be frank, Heather was unpleasant to be around.

Fake it until you make it.

Reassuring herself could only do so much. Whatever. Just faking confidence was enough to keep the facade going. Acting like the best tricked others into treating you the same. 

Rolling onto her side, Heather pulled the blankets as high as she could. It was nearing midnight and her mind wouldn't stop racing. It was all stress, being popular was terrible. Nothing more than a downward spiral. 

Yet, there was no point in ending it. Sometimes it worked out. Pretending to be loved was better than being hated.


End file.
